Author's Note: Hi all! Sorry it took a while but I decided to stall my Halo: Power of Honor story for now and make a pitch-perfect crossover...ok maybe "pitch-perfect" was an understatement but I'll try my very best on this Shingeki no Kyojin/TitanFall crossover to the best of my abilities. Hopefully you Titan fans out there will find my story much enjoyable.

Ok I'll clear things up first... there are two types of Titans that will appear in this story.

The Armored titanium mechs from Titanfall.

And the organic, giant, naked humanoids from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan.

The Story is told from the point of view of the main Titanfall Pilots and possibly a few others.

The Story will take place right before the Battle of Trost and after Mission 3: The Odyssey (Just pretend that the prologue depicted as some Attrition match.) The campaign really confused me a lot... sorry.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Earth, the precious jewel and Homeworld of the still developing Human race. But like any home, the planet gets crowded and polluted and the once beautiful world turned into an industrialized civilization. I suppose Humanity is at fault for this: Human ignorance and self-greed. But we still call it home, despite the differences. But like many who grow up, we look to the stars and find another place we can call our home, to wash our hands and start anew. We wandered around, poked and probed around any new planets that might suit our needs, but there were some setbacks. The Goal of a new Frontier slowly diminished as people suddenly backed down, many called it an impossible task and beyond our reach. But there are a few others who are rather persistent, despite the circumstances.

Many of them happened to be determined scientists. And that determination came the success of the very sophisticated engine that allowed human kind to take a step further and accomplish that goal. The eggheads named it "Space and Time Folding" but many simply called it "Jump". Humanity went far into the wild, dark abyss we call Space and found something even better. A sector of habitable planets, rich in valuable space and resources. A zone of potential places that we can call home, untouched by the foul stench of Human kind's self-needs and unnecessary ideals to start a ripe, new life. To start the foundations of a new Frontier.

But despite the technological successes and advancements, history begins to repeat itself. Our Greed, need for violence, and our darker side began to present itself. Unfortunately, as life in the new Frontier was flourishing, it was also rich in usable resources. A private military company of the Core Worlds, the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation, began to exploit the valuable resources. When they attempted to evict the colonists off the planets, tensions began to flare and explode. Later before you ever saw it coming, the Titan Wars began.

Born from the ashes were the Militia, a mixed up group of former IMC pilots and rebels who had the bravery to stand up for their freedom against the IMC. As the war escalated, many people didn't really see much in the Militia. But as the IMC began to step up in the game, many decided to join the cause. The Militia fought hard and dirty, in brains and brawl to win their freedom. This war didn't come without a price you know. Many people both from the Militia and IMC lost their lives. Chaos and destruction blew like a wildfire across the Frontier as the war slowly progressed. The Militia did their very best in order to gain their valued independence while the IMC did everything in their power to maintain peace and order across the sector.

Well, enough said. My name is Winston Douglas, Titan Pilot of the Frontier Militia and this is how it all began.

When I was breathing at a rather ridiculous pace, I couldn't help but marvel at how my helmet's visor hadn't fogged up by now. I've got to give credit to the IMC. As much as I hated them with a burning passion, their skill in technology really created some fancy advanced toys, but the abnormally expensive prices unfortunately compensate for that. And the fact that their mercenaries and their tech were currently shooting me right now made my anger for them burn inside me like a boiling tea kettle.

For that I'm glad I'm in the Militia.

The HUD on my visor began to layout a waypoint arrow in front of me, shaking me out of my thoughts. My mind was getting oxygen-deprived, even if the pair of specially augmented lungs were working harder to keep me conscious. If I didn't calm down in this type of situation, I might as well accidentally make a fatal mistake.

That certain mistake would lead me to my death.

Or in a mangled, broken body bag coughing on my own blood and bone.

There is a fifty slash fifty percent chance that both can happen anyway.

If I let myself even slow down for a second, I might as well become a red, mushy puddle of flesh and blood. A supersonic round flew through the air, barely missing my head by a few inches and shattered an apartment window behind, immediately killing any thoughts of digression.

'Might as well thank the Lord...' I thought as I saw the two-story apartment building that served as the drop-ship's landing point.

'And the miracles of Science.' I quickly added as I began to jump from rooftop to rooftop to the landing zone.

Vincent, my teammate and my cousin, who had stayed behind to pick off enemies with his Kraber sniper rifle in hand fired a round into a IMC pilot's cranium, ending his life instantly. Switching to his Hemlok BF-R he fired a burst at a group of grunts as he spotted me around the corner.

"Hey Winston! Get your ass up here! We only have a few more seconds until we leave this hellhole!" His Vietnamese-accented voice barked in frustration.

He didn't have to tell me twice, especially when you have 10 precious seconds to carry your worn-out ass, your Parkour kit, your weapons, and armor up two floors worth of stairs. It's pretty damn hard, for Pilot standards. But me, it was plenty of time, the extra hours of difficult training really paid off.

I began to lean my head forward, propelling myself in a full tilt. Right before when I was seemingly about to comically splat against the concrete wall, I leaped up, kicking off the wall in the process. Reaching the climax of the jump, I activated the Pilot Parkour kit, the fundamental piece of Pilot equipment, clearing the wall in moments time like a sugar-induced cricket. Multiple bullets and missiles of different shapes and sizes whizzed passed me as the path towards the dropship became an easy one, though the IMC grunts and the robotic spectres that followed were being rather persistent. Like rats attracted to rotten cheese, they gained on me with reckless abandon, some knocked down from gunfire from the dropship's defenders.

3 powerful strides and I'm barely in. I tumbled in the troop compartment of the dropship as the hull door began to close so fast I would have been cleanly sliced in half if I were a second slower. I tossed my helmet off and deeply sighed in relief but was interrupted when the hull began to shake and shutter from the impact of the explosions. The ship's shields began to slowly chip away, putting all aboard at risk. The booms and shakes rocking the vehicle made my blood icy with dread.

"Everyones aboard! Get us the hell out of here!" Vincent ordered the drop-ship's pilot.

The pilot nodded in compliance, quickly tapping the ship's controls for a quick takeoff. I looked out the hull window and visibly paled to see the massive figure of a silky-white colored IMC Atlas Titan running towards us with a Plasma Railgun in hand. No doubt having the thought of grounding us with its energy weapon and blasting the dropship into a fiery wreck of charred flesh and metal. But before that thought became a reality, a brightening glow emanated from the drop-ship began to cover the vessel before disappearing in a blinding, blatant flash. Once the flash dissipated, I blinked my eyes several times to see that we're no longer on the ground but in space, chunks of floating metal and debris from previous engagements greeted my eyes as a beaten up vessel in the form of a Militia Flagship came into view.

The Allegiance

"Beautiful isn't it?" Vincent murmured as he took his helmet, silently admiring the gigantic vessel. "Someone should take a picture."

I smirked amusingly. Removing a small camera from one of my uniform's pouches, I snapped a quick picture of the Allegiance and tossed my camera to Vincent who caught it without taking his gaze off of the Flagship.

"I aim to please." I said with a smile and went to check up on the other survivors as the dropship began to slowly ascend into the hangar. Vincent glanced at the camera in his gloved hands and to me as I moved out of sight.

As of right now, we were back home safe and sound.

"You know I was being rhetorical right?" He called out.

Or were we?

James MacAllen couldn't have a bigger responsibility than this. After he was made appointed leader of the Marauder Corps, he felt like the fate of his crew's fate and lives were resting on his shoulders, and failure wasn't an option either. He was made Captain of the Allegiance soon afterwards and things have been going quite smoothly. His crew, Pilot, Grunt, and Navy had slowly come to respect him as a leader; the statement evident as he walked to the bridge. Everyone in their stations turned and looked towards him and immediately began to stand and salute firmly. Commander Sarah was the one to speak up first.

"Officer on deck!" Sarah shouted with recognition.

MacAllen's face was filled with utter shock and surprise at the attention he was getting but later turned into respect as he quickly returned the salutes.

"At ease." replied MacAllan with a genuine smile as everyone began to drop their salute and return to their stations.

"Alright, Sarah how are we doing so far?" He asked, walking up to Sarah's station.

"Not good, we got a few supplies but just barely enough. The last of the drop-ships just touched down in the landing bay and all hands are accounted for." Sarah replied attentively. MacAllen nods solemnly and turns around when the warning systems blared to life, alarming the Captain and the crew.

"Captain, We got multiple IMC ships on an intercept course! Energy levels are at 40% and rising, they're looking like they are ready to fire!" a navigations officer shouted fearfully.

Eyes wide with realization, James MacAllen had a look of horror that was barely suppressed, realizing that a number of Frontier civilian ships were in that intercept path.

Rushing to the central communications terminal of the Allegiance, James activated the fleet-wide communications signal.

"This is Captain MacAllan to all surviving Civilian and Militia forces. I am ordering a full retreat, I repeat a full retreat! Start you jumps and get the hell out of here!" He cried out as IMC ships began to close the distance.

Like if they didn't need to hear him, the remaining Militia ships glowed, hinting of a randomized long distance jump. The two sides began to exchange fire, lances of pure energy and homing missiles began to intensify, trying to out-smart each other before the surviving Militia ships attempted to escape. The Militia ships glowed even brighter as they zoom in a stretch of shining light, swimming across the galaxy in mere minutes. MacAllen suddenly realized that the IMC ships didn't even bother pursue the smaller Frontier ships but instead to have their sights on the Allegiance, which is still drifting in its original position. The Allegiance being one of the largest and last ships in the process of resupplying was still in the final preparations of the emergency jump.

"Bish, when are the engines ready? The IMC is going to tear us to pieces if we don't go soon!" MacAllen warned as the IMC's port guns began to glow.

Bish, the Militia's finest hacker and engineer began to cycle through the data in a quickened pace.

"Engines are at sixty percent and rising, we should be able to jump in a few minutes!"

MacAllen, slightly exasperated, turns to Bish.

"We don't have minutes, we needs those engines up at seventy and we need them now!"

As if the IMC wanted to emphasize his point, the whole fleet began to beat down on the Allegiance's shields like a drum with the firepower of energy torpedoes and missiles. The combined attack causes the crew to topple over from the aftershock with MacAllen nearly falling too but held onto the railing of the command terminal to keep his balance. The crew, recovered from the force of the barrage, began to relay and shout their own respective information to him.

"We got 3 new IMC contacts, bearing 90 degrees northwest, they're charging their weapons!"

"Our shields are at 20% and rising! Crap we're taking too much damage! Captain, we cannot hold out much longer!"

"Our long ranged sensors are down! We're sitting ducks out here!"

"Guns 1 - 3 are offline!"

As the deck officers barrage him with loads of information, MacAllen began to tune out, focusing his attention with Bish and the engineering crew.

"Bish, Are we ready to jump?" He asked in a strangely calm tone, despite the chaos that is currently taking place. Bish scrolled through the holograms in attempts to improvise, his face suddenly brightened up as he figured out a way to save everyone from destruction.

He hoped

"Our engines are currently at sixty-five percent! We can randomize a jump but It'll probably take us to middle of nowhere if we get lucky!" Bish responded.

"Better than being out here, Bish, now get us out of here!" MacAllen exclaimed. Bish nodded in compliance as he punched in a series of commands in his station, mentally crossing his fingers in the process.

The Allegiance glowed in a brightening light before accelerating in a blur of stretching, shining light. In a single warp of light, The Flagship seemingly zoomed from existence, leaving the IMC dazed and confused at the vessel's sudden getaway.

Until next time...

Author's note: Phew Prologue already done! I'll start on Chapter 1 as soon as I can! :)